Snippet #2616543

There was not a second during the funeral that her daughter’s hand wasn’t firmly placed in her own. Diane sat quietly as the townspeople went up to her husband’s casket and spoke one after the other. Diane would squeeze Pamela’s hand every time someone came up and spouted shit from their face orifices. They called their fecal matter ‘condolences’ or ‘kind words’ about Patrick Clay. If one more person called him their father Diane was going to explode. Patrick was great at being the loving and kind head that people wanted to be around. That was how she fell in love with him to begin with. Patrick was the man of her dreams. He was a gift from the God that she no longer prayed to. After Delsis broke the world around her, Diane decided that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John could shove it. If there was a God there wouldn’t have been a disease that nearly wiped out the entire planet. God. What a fucking joke.

The montage of crap was brought to a halt when a familiar blonde in a wheel chair was rolled up to Patrick’s casket. Diane squeezed her daughter in preparation for what was about to come out of this one. Evanne Remmington should have stayed far far away from Dust when she left the first time. It was people like her that made this town weaker…and now Dana was gone because of her. Diane knew that her younger child would have never done what she did if she raised her herself. Patrick’s kind hand wasn’t the kind that Dana was needing. She needed the firmest of hands and an even firmer regimen but instead she ran wild. Well, now she can run wild in the wilderness to her heart’s fullest content. Diane couldn’t admit to anyone how depressed she’s been feeling since the death of her husband and the unofficial death of her daughter, Dana. Diane knew that banishing someone into the wilderness was just as good as an execution itself. She should know; she created the law. Dana, if she was still alive, had two options: get smarter or die.

Evanne’s coughing was signal that it was beginning. Diane could almost guess what she was about to say; something about Patrick being the big grandpappy of Dust just like everyone else. Patrick called everyone and anyone younger than him his ‘child’ so they felt more comfortable bringing their problems to him so in turn everyone called him thought of him as ‘dad.’ Patrick had more kids than a Latter Day Saint these days. But, instead of focusing on all his other ‘children’ he should have kept his daughter out of trouble. Now she was banished from the town her parent’s created because her father was weak.

“We lost the father of Dust,” Evanne spoke softly, still on meds probably.

Oh here we go again.

Diane listened to what Evanne had to say and promptly put her words in her mental cabinet where everything else she didn’t care about collected dust. Pamela squeezed her hand, “I think it’s your turn, Mom.”

Diane stood up from her seat the only way she knew how to stand. Confidently. She paused at Patrick’s open casket and silently hoped that he was in a better place. If God were real then Patrick deserved the most luxurious heavenly suite. There were no one on this planet who deserved peace more than he did. The moment with her husband was short lived because she had to address the crowd. Diane turned to face her townspeople.

“Regardless of our different opinions on how this town should be run Patrick was a great man. All of you have said many kind words about him and it is highly appreciated by me and Pamela. I want to take this time while I have all of you here to focus on the last words Patrick Clay spoke. He wanted us all to do better than his generation and the ones that came before him. He wanted us all to do better than what we were already putting out because, quite frankly, even Patrick was aware that this town wasn’t doing what was needed of it.” Diane paused to look at the familiar and unfamiliar faces in the crowd. She stared for maybe a second too long at the newcomers and their twins.

She returned to her speech, “the first generation of Dust worked day and night to make sure that our children could survive in this desolate land. We made decisions that we are not proud of for the sake of the future of this town. We have made enemies high and low in order to secure safety for our people. Generation One had this fire because we were scared and pissed off. Patrick did not see the fire in this generation and that’s because it’s not there.”

Diane looked towards Luke, “this generation is too interested in having sex with everything with sexual organs.”

Diane looked at Juniper, “this generation is too interested in running away every time they have an issue instead of handling it.”

Diane looked at the newcomers, “this generation is too interested in blending in instead of daring to be the nail that gets the hammer. Want my advice? Instead of being the nail just become the hammer. No one else in this town seems to be taking that role.”

Diane switched her gaze to Noah at the end of her last sentence then continued, “This generation is too interested in having bastard children instead of leading their town.” Diane found Evelyn playing on her mother’s lap and frowned. That child would have an interesting future in store for her. She will either be hated because her mom was a slut or because her father was an unfit dictator.

Diane smiled and looked up at the crowd, “Patrick wants us all to do better than he and his generation did. Patrick was a great man and an even greater leader even if it was only from the background. Doing better than Patrick will be difficult. There is no tougher job in the world so I suggest you start. Thank you everyone for coming but the funeral is over. Go home.”